


Before The Dead Do I Plead With My God

by Gattoartico



Series: Gatto’s Oneshot Shop of Horrors [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Welsh Mythology
Genre: Butchering Welsh Mythology, Gen, I can only hope Yandex mostly gave me correct translations, I don’t speak welsh, I know I said Regulus was my favorite but so is Theo, I love both my sad lil Slytherins, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Rituals, This is absolutely at this point part of a shared universe, Ychydig Meistr verse, also, but lacking any subtlety, butchering the welsh language in general, eldritch vibes my doods, like barely even alluded to, minor theo/harry, this is my otp for this fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:15:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29237427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gattoartico/pseuds/Gattoartico
Summary: Theo knows the end is close. He’d rather fight and die for what he believes in.
Relationships: Theodore Nott & Amatheon(Welsh Mythology), Theodore Nott/Harry Potter
Series: Gatto’s Oneshot Shop of Horrors [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2145099
Kudos: 12





	Before The Dead Do I Plead With My God

Beneath Nott Manor was a cave system. It stretches down into the ground. Into the deepest parts of the earth where the bones of gods long forgotten moulder, where secrets of the past refuse to be unearthed. Near the surface, three turns, two drops, and one intersection into the system lay a small cavern. The room was dry, its ceiling held up by petrified trees. The barest trickle of sunlight filtered in through the roof. The rays lay upon a low stone table, highlighting the row of skulls. Each had lain there for generations of the Nott family, for centuries uncounted. These were the skulls of their ancestors, of their forebears. The middle one however, was the oldest of them all. The jaws forced open from the vine that grew within. 

Theodore Nott was afraid. 

Of that he was certain. Even with his hand upon the opening, the still air of the chamber held the weight of power. Upon his shoulders rested the mantle of eternity. His steps were slow and methodical as he entered. Every step took him deeper into the room, closer to the altar. Theo knew the stories of this place, the legends his father and grandfather had imparted. This was the purpose of their line. This was what they had protected and served for the whole of their history. As he drew closer he imagined for a moment that a flicker of green light flared in the sockets of the oldest skull. He brought to the forefront of his mind the words his father had taught him. The words his father had learned from his, who had learned it from his, going back through the family lines. 

He slowly knelt before the altar and lowered his head. He could feel the coldness of bone against his forehead and spoke. “Y gwaed o fy tadau llif o fewn i mi, y gwaed o fy hynafiaid o fewn mi, yr hawl yn fy ngwaed i, a byddaf yn galw. Yr anrhydedd o fy llinell ydw i'n ei alw. Clywed fy ple a dyro i mi dy nerth, yr hynaf o ni i gyd.”

The air in the chamber grew heavier, a wrongness permeated it. A feeling of comfort, of rage, of love, and of hate. A swish of cloth and he knew he was no longer alone. 

“What is it you seek from the ancestors?” A voice spoke, the words clear amid the cracking of ice, the shifting of stones, and the pouring of sand. 

He shifted slightly, moved to open his eyes, to take his head from the skull. He heard movement, the voice spoke again. “Do not look, do not move. Keep your eyes shut.” A wailing of the burned, the sound of death, baying of hounds.

Theo held his position as he answered the question. “I seek the power that is afforded to us in the darkest of times. When shadows gather upon the door and the light hides. My life is threatened, so too is all of Magical Britain. I need the strength to stand firm and never falter.”

“That alone is not your reason.” A heart breaking, a lover’s gasp, the twitch of a cat’s tail.

“No. I’m doing this all to aid another.” Theo said, his thoughts wandering to another. Their skin sunkissed, raven hair messy, emerald eyes sparkling in the sun. “I cannot find it within myself the resolve to stay away.”

“The needs of the heart do so often lead even the mighty astray. If your eye he has caught, do not let him escape.” A whispered confession, a beloveds’ rage, a small death.

“I won’t. I will wed him one day.” Theo knew what he felt for the small Gryffindor was far more than his parents had ever felt for each other. “I think I love him.”

“A feeling even the gods do envy in mortals. For you it burns hot, it burns fierce. It has the promise of the other side. For us, there is no such promise.” The sound of a lovers’ embrace, of a morning kiss, of a heartfelt request.

“For him and for the world I ask for your strength, god of my fathers, patron of my ancestors.”

Something stood at his back. The hair on the back of his neck rose as something breathed upon it. The voice sounded almost in his ear. “The balance is undone. Darkness towers where there should be light, the grey is all but vanquished.” The clink of coins on stone, a spilled drink, the thump of flesh. “Will you fix that which has gone wrong? Will you render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s?” Voices singing ablutions, a crown placed upon a brow, the flurry of a signature.

“If it would correct the balance, if it would slay the Dark Lord.” Theo said. He knew his words were in defiance of his grandfather, a man who had sworn himself to Voldemort. He didn’t care. He knew what the Dark Lord brought to Britain, what his rule would do to wizard kind.

A violent hiss sounded in his ear as the presence moved back. The pressure grew heavier, making it hard for Theo to breath. For a moment it felt as if the world shuddered at the rage of Theo’s god. “The pretender must fall. He claims a throne not his own. A power not his to have.” The thunder of artillery sounded, a clash of swords, the whistle of wind as a man fell from a height. 

“I will do my best to bring him down.” 

“His fall is not yours to make. Another will take that right. Another will shatter his defenses. You will bring his army to ruin.” The sound of walls collapsing, the crack of gunfire, of cannon fire.

“Then whatever you can give me I will take.” Theo said.

Theo felt a hand rest upon his shoulder, too many fingers to be human, the pinch of talons digging into his flesh. The brush of Its lips in his hair. “I will give you power that no man should ever hold. Flames of iridescent viridian. Restore the balance that was. Bring ruin to the dark, and check the light.” The sound of a scale shifting, of harmony, the sound of a cats’ step.

An arm slid around Theo, pulling him back against a chest that felt too solid to be human, to faint to be real.

He could hear It breath. 

It’s chest never moved. 

Lips rested on the shell of his ear, a tongue as dry as bone slid up his cheek. “Do you give yourself to me as your forebear refused? Do you sacrifice your humanity in my service?” The pant of a dog, the hum of generators, a drop of wax over flame.

“I do.” Theo stated, firm in his resolve. No matter what he would do everything he could to bring down Voldemort. 

“Tell me my name, little one. Do not swear an oath lest you know unto what you swear it to.” The press of gold in wax, the silver lies of a holy man, the naked truths of a hymnal.

“You are Amatheon. The Green Man, the lantern in the woods leading travellers astray, the thief of the Cŵn Annwn, the lapwing, and the white stag. The victor of the Cad Goddau. You are birth and you are death. You are the god of my ancestors, the Lord of the Grey.” Theo intoned. His voice heavy with the words he spoke, the epithets of the being that was wrapped around him. Yet still Theo knew only the barest minimum had been spoken of. For the god behind him was so much more than he could ever grasp.

It grinned against his cheek. “Then I press you into service. Ten years before my banner.” The rattle of chains, the flutter of banners, the clank of mail plate.

It placed a hand upon Theo’s back. He could feel fire bloom to life around Its arm, and it pushed into his flesh. Theo couldn’t hold the scream back as It burned a hole to his heart. It held him close and hummed a wordless song into his ear. He felt It close a hand around his heart and feed Its flame into his core. His magic giving way to something older, something beyond human. Something that did not belong in this world. It pulled Its hand out and wove his flesh together with fire. 

“My power is now yours to command. Rise again my chosen one. Burn the world with my rage.” The sound of fire roaring, of trees falling, of cliffs collapsing.  
It stepped back, the feel of closeness receding. The pressure in the chamber lightened only a little bit. It laid Its hand on Theo’s head and spoke again. “Rise little one. Rise and bring the balance that was.” The chorus of violins, the sound of adoration, the sound between breaths.

Fire burned in Theo’s soul, his magic blazed like a bonfire. He could feel the power of his god taking root within him. He could feel emerald flames flowing beneath his skin, dancing behind his eyes. Theo slowly rose to his feet. It drew back, and he felt the room return to stillness. He opened his eyes and turned. Nothing else was in the room with him. The dust was still, undisturbed save for Theo’s own footprints. He took a breath and left the chamber. 

Every step he took away from it, every move, he could hear the skulls calling him back, singing in harmony, a wordless song from another time and place. The pounding of drums and wailing voices. Visions of birds and wild plains flashed in his mindseye. The moment he entered the corridor the singing cut. Silence followed him to the basement of Nott Manor.

His god had given him strength.

The world shuddered with his every step.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Three works in two days wheeee!
> 
> This is unusual for me do not expect this to be frequent thing. 
> 
> So I’ve built upon how this verse treats Amatheon a little bit. I already have plans for works that include when Harry met both him and Arawn, other points that they may have shown up. Possibly the final battle of Hogwarts.
> 
> Definitely plan to show what exactly Amatheon just did to Theo. 
> 
> This is all pretty obviously my own headcanons that I’m finally writing down so expect some odd twists. So final note, the run of fics absolutely is Theo/Harry, I adore that ship and I will die for it.
> 
> The biiiig block of welsh in there, translation is not perfect. I do not speak Welsh, neither do I claim to be a scholar of these things. My main source of Welsh language and Myth is the _Book of Taliesin_ of which I do own a copy.
> 
> I admit to having to play with wording, and sorta rough translate it to sound decentish. Not my best work. I woulda used my Atlantean conlang but it’s not even close to being complete enough for something like this.
> 
> So literal translation:
> 
> The blood of my fathers flow within me, the blood of my ancestors within me, the right is in my blood, and I will call. The honor of my line do I call. Hear my plea and grant me your strength, the oldest of us all.
> 
> And here’s the original text:
> 
> The blood of my fathers flow within me, the blood of my ancestors is mine, the right that is in my blood do I call. The honor of my line do I call. Hear my plea and grant me your strength, oldest of us all.


End file.
